Accidental Attraction
by mkaydkay
Summary: Alfred kisses his dream girl at a party. He is in for a shock when he realizes his dream girl isn't really his dream girl...
1. Chapter 1

Al Jones was your all American boy.

He rode horses.

Helped run a farm.

Woo'd the ladies.

Ya know. The usual.

Everything from his sandy blond hair, his bright blue eyes, his Americana bomber jacket to the ketchup stain on the lower left corner of his plain white t-shirt screamed "UHMERICKA."

But if you grew up in rural Missouri you would have to try real hard to not come out a cow poke yourself.

But Al ain't in Missouri no more.

Actually, he is grumbling in the backseat of a taxicab in good ole New York City.

Alfred's dad remarried a model from Toronto… and BOOM.

They moved to the Big Apple.

The move was hard on Alfred, he went from being a big fish in a little pond to a regular fish in a ginormous, kinda dirty pond with some weird-ass looking fish.

And a Frog.

There was a Frog in this weird ass pond and it had an affinity for Alfred.

The Frog was sitting next to him.

The Frog was the reason Alfred was sitting in the car.

He was also the reason Alfred was dressed up like Ellen DeGeneres.

Damn the Frog.

Francis Bonniefoy is a highschool senior that lives in the flat three doors down from Alfred and his "family" ("because anyone who would let this madman abduct me and take me to a strange party despite my screaming 'No please! Don't let me go!' is NOT family"- Alfred). From Alfred's observation this past week in school as the new resident wallflower, Francis was really popular. _Really_ popular. Everyone loved him. Tuesday, when Alfred was playing on his PS3 behind the bleachers he saw coach Sakowski approach Francis and make a rather pitiful attempt to flirt with the French boy. As horrifying as it was, it seemed like no one could help themselves when it came to Francis. He was beautiful, ( he said he was an amateur model ) but more than that he was geninuely a nice guy and really did want to be Alfred's friend. But, Alfred would eat his bomber jacket before he let that happen.

"_Relax Mon Ami!_" coaxed the devilishly handsome Frenchman who had turned himself sideways in the taxicab so that his feet were resting comfortably in Alfred's lap." This party….eh… c'est tres magnifique!"

" I. Hate. You."

After a short while, the cab parked and Francis paid the driver.

Alfred couldn't believe this was happening to him He had only been in New York for three weeks and is now currently being dragged to the thirteenth party since his arrival.

Music boomed from the abandoned building.

" Password" a burly kid from Alfred's Pysch class asked.

"uh.. uh.. hm.. Francis!" Alfred called, he quickly learned, when in a rut call for Francis.

Francis who was standing a few feet away trying to tie up his blonde hair in a navy blue ribbon, stopped what he was doing and ran his hair through his medium length hair.

" Le garcon avec moi." He said with one of his dazzling smiles.

The boy nodded dumbly and let Alfred in. The kid probably didn't even understand what Francis said, but whatever Francis was talking to him.

Alfred surveyed the party looking for a nice boring corner to hide the rest of the night.. or until Francis thought he was being too anti-social and would introduce him to new people where Alfred would just stand there like an awkward turtle and wave. Alfred found a nice corner to brood in but, he was have been brooding too hard because Francis rushed over with a worried expression.

" Ca Va? Mon petit Hermit Crab?" the Frog asked while patting Alfred on the back.

" Yeah. I'm fine. I just wanna-"

"FRANCIS! YOU INSUFFERABLE BASTARD! I. WILL. KILL. YOU."

'That's new' Alfred thought.

He turned to see where the voice came from. He saw the most. Superfoxymegaawesomehot.

Girl.

In the Universe, in the alternate Universes too.

She was perfect, except for her eyebrows. Those things were huge. But that was okay!

She had red lips, smokey blue eyes and was wearing a tight black dress with white lightening bolts and combat boots.

Because she was different. Anyone one who openly threatened the well being of Francis Bonniefoy must be interesting.

" I have to talk to her."

The shaking Frenchman behind him replied, " Here let me help you!"

He shoved Alfred into the girl causing the two of the to topple over. He was outta there faster than a cheetah on steroids.

"Ugh, You getting anytime soon" The girl asked.

'British, she _is_ interesting!'

Trying his luck with the girl, he stayed in his current postion.

" Hi I'm Alfred, I'm a sophomore at NY Prep, what's your name?"

She stared up at him. He was beginning to realize what an uncomfortable situation the two of them were in.

" You really not going to let me up?" She asked curiously.

"uh.. uh… um.."

A red blush started creeping up his neck and began to get up. But, before he could think, he was on his back and a pair of soft lips planted a rather long wet kiss on his.

Alfred had his eyes closed so he could see everyone staring at him. Alfred heard the music stop, but he attributed that to being swept up in the kiss not the Disk Jockey stopping what she was doing to stare open mouthed at the two people kissing on the dance floor. Alfred was completely oblivious to the attention he was getting. But, if he was aware he would have to ask himself, 'why is everybody staring at me?' but he didn't know all the cool upper classmen at New York Preparatory High School stared at him amazed.

Finally it hit Alfred his lips were locked with some strange hottie with caterpillars for eyebrows. He pulled away and stared at the girl with wide eyes. The girl hovered over him looking smug and then walked away. Leaving Alfred with the taste of sugar and tea on his lips.

"n-n-n-Name!"

The girl turned around and smiled "Arthur."

Her laughter echoed through the building when she saw the confused look on Alfred's face. The silent crowd parted like the Red Sea for her and she disappeared.

!

The stranger's footsteps were the only things you could here in the room.

'Arthur… there's no way that could be a girls name." Alfred thought to himself. Then has the strangers footsteps ceased it hit him.

" OHMIGOD." Alfred whispered loudly and stormed out of the party.

Nope. Arthur was definitely NOT a boy's name.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey Guys!  
Okay.. so I am completely new to this site.. I also have a confession to make.

I don't read/watch/regularly fangirl over Hetalia ( watched the first three freshman year)

I did my research (wiki/tumblr) for the story because I wanted to write a story for my friend who ADORES this story...

(shedidntlikeitverymuchbuthta tsokaybecauseiloveherandshei scool)

And, honestly this is my first free write thang. and i have this account soo..

I have a favor to ask of you peeps.

It kinda blew me away that ANYONE was reading let alone a couple hundred.. that's probably not alot on this site but it is for me!

...and here somes the part were I pimp myself out.

I ask two things.

1. If ya have a youtube.. or just wanna check me out. mikkidixxi (mychannel)

Nothing cool is up there YET. but, if you review here, and subscibe and like there... I will update BOTH weekly ( and i lovelovelove my youtube)

2. Have a nice day.. i shall post soon =)


	3. Chapter 2: Soups and Playthings

Francis Bonnefoy hurried into the lobby of his apartment building.

Ding!

_Oh good_! He thought as he stepped into the elevator. In retrospect…. Francis probably should haven't have left the party with out Alfred. But, as much as he loved that cute little American, he could not risk staying in the same vicinity as Arthur after what the little prank he pulled. It really was all fun and games why the hell did that boy have to get his knickers in a knot over everything?

Either way, Francis knew he should be expecting a beat down from the Englishmen.

He did not expect one from Alfred.

Alfred struck as quick as lighting and put Francis in a death grip.

"Explain. Now" He seethed.

_Oh Mondieu! C'est terrible_ the Frenchmen thought.

He almost made it.

The elevator door closed and lifted the boys up to their floor.

Francis made a run for it but Alfred was able to hold him back by grabbing a handful of his hair. He dragged Francis into his apartment.

"Back so soon?"

I female voice called out from the kitchen.

Helena stepped into the hallway and gave the boys a warm smile.

She was taller than both boys, in her mid forties, and strikingly beautiful. She was a good woman. Both boys knew that. She planted a kiss on both boys foreheads and stepped back and looked at them expectantly.

She wanted to know what happened.

The world must be coming to an end if Francis Bonnefoy leaves a party early.

Helena had known Francis since those many years ago, when she did modeled in Montreal, she and her son Matthieu took in an exchange student, Francis.

Francis' parents were business moguls who really didn't have much time for their son, so they sent him to live in a strangers household for half a year and passed it off as culturing the boy when in actuality it was like an extended day-care.

But, Francis fell in love with Canada, with Montreal, with the family he was staying with. That half year became three.

Francis who was only a few years older than Matthieu was enrolled in school with him. They did everything together, they shared everything, they were inseperable. And in Helena's two bedroom apartment, the boys shared one twin bed, even though they were two in the room. The were just that close. Helena loved Francis like a son, she desperately tried to fill the void his parents made. When he left, she did her best to keep in contact with him, and…. She couldn't be happier that he was staying just two doors down from her new blended family.

Like a child Francis ran behind Helena wrapping his arms around her waist and speaking into her back saying,'' Help me 'Lena, your new son is trying to kill me. I think you picked a bad one."

Helena chuckled and said, " Al, what he do?"

Behind her, Francis let go and made a shocked hurt face.

" He… HE… He left me at the party with a mad-man! That I thought was just like a crazy chick but… No! he wasn't it was dude in chicks clothes! Not that I have a problem with it… it's just that SOMEONE didn't give me a heads up. But ah. You know what I do have a problem with Fran?"

" Quoi mon ange?"

Alfred punched Francis in the shoulder.

" Enough with the pet names alright! He kissed me! He kissed me and then walked away laughing!" Alfred grabbed Francis by the shoulders.

" ."

Helena had a feeling this would be a while so she grabbed the boys by the scruff of their necks and sat them down at the kithen table so she could listen to the rest of their ridiculous story as she made dinner.

"Oh Mondieu. Oh Non! Pardon mon amie! Pardon mon ange! C'est terrible! C'est ne bon pas! OHNONONONONON."

Francis slammed his head against the table repeatedly as Alfred looked on. His once angry disposition changed to one of confusion and worry.

"Fran… I …. Hey!" Alfred reached over and grabbed Francis' face and made him look at Alfred. "I have no idea what you are saying.. but it sounds like this is.. bad? How do you know this guy?"

Francis ran his hand through his hair only stopping when he found a blond curl by his right temple to play with.

" His name is Arthur. He goes to our school. You haven't met him because he takes the first couple of weeks of a new school year to go back home and visit his family in England… like me, we are here alone."

Helena stopped stirring the pot and hugged Francis around the shoulders, resting her chin on the top of his head. She never liked when her babies felt alone.

"You have probably heard people talk about him by his nickname, 'La Reine' or, 'The Queen'… I gave him the nickname. We are friends ….sort of."

"Oh, is he like one of your followers?" Alfred was beginning to get it. He had heard the name thrown around but he had no idea who it was so he never listen in on the conversations concerning The Queen. It made sense he was one of Francis ultra popular fakey-fake ass- kissing friends that live on the Upper-East Side.

Francis stared at Alfred for a while before breaking in to a fit of laughter.

Then it was Alfred's turn to stare. He was soooo confused. Maybe he was off the mark with this Alfred person.

"Ah.. AHAHa. Non mon ange. Arthur would have your head if he heard you say he was one of my…'disciples'. Believe it he is even more popular than me… and infinitely meaner. The reason I didn't stick around to properly introduce the two of you was because, I was trying to flee from Arthur's wrath.. You see Francis was still jet-lagged from his trip and dosed off in one of the empty rooms in the warehouse. Well… You know Margot? The one with the freckles ? She always wears that metallic blue eyeliner with powder pink lipstick? Well She has always dreamed of getting in Arthur's pants.. so I helped her! I thought it would be funny if they swapped clothes. Arthur is a heavy sleeper and a loud snorer.. so it wasn't hard. But he never takes my jokes lightly, he'll probably get when of his bonebreakers to cut of my fingers or something.. I'll have to skip school til' his anger subsides.."

Helena put vegitable stew in front of the boys and sat down at the head of the table.

"Bonebreakers?" Alfred asked as he gulped down his soup.

"Oh oui, Arthur's mother refused to let her baby come to the States with out ensuring his absolute safety. The Bonebreakers are comprised of two meat head muscle men, Hans from Germany and, Frankie from Jersey. Arthur has a mean right-hook; I know first hand, and no one even dares make eye contact with him so.. he mostly uses the Bonebreakers to do his dirty work." Francis replied.

"Woah. And you're friends? "

"Yeah. He has his shining moments and being gorgous foreigners.. we can relate. Plus he keeps things interesting. Like, with you."

"What do you mean with me."

"You, mon ange are his newest play toy."


	4. Chapter 3: Title too long to insert

It was ten minutes before the first bell rang. Matthieu pushes the doors to Thames school open and makes a bee line for his locker.

He definitely does not need bullshit.

The last couple years of his life have been bullshit.

The past few months with Alfred have been a lot of bullshit.

And then Francis? And Alfred had to go to that party and fuck shit up and-

No. Nope. Mattieu will not have any part of this. This has nothing to do with him. He is going to keep a low profile and stay the hell away from those crazy bastards. As Matthieu shrugs off his worn leather jacket that he found at the Goodwill last Friday and begins leafing through his Course Reader for Mrs. Monroe's World Literature class when a hand snakes around his waist and a painfully annoying voice whispers in his ear," Bon matin mon petit chopin!"

Ugh. Francis.

This is not what Matthieu met by avoiding the bullshit.

"Francis."

"Mon ange, we do not talk anymore.. Ca va?"

"Francis."

"Don't worry Matthieu, I have already forgiven you for declining my invite for to the party"

"Francis."

"Non, It is in ze past, I understand next time just- oof!"

Francis clutches his stomach and looks up at a very agitated Matthieu with the expression of a kicked puppy.

" Kind of busy Francis. Kindly fuck off." Matthieu huffed.

" But Matt-ungh."

Matthieu blinked. That blow didn't come from him. He looked from where Francis was on the floor nursing as swelling forehead to find a seething Arthur towering over Francis... seething.

Matthieu took a step back.

" Well I'm gonna go to English now.. so.."

But as Matthieu made a break for it, Arthur's hand shot out and grab him by his shaggy chocolate brown hair and grabbed him by his other shoulder and spun Matthieu around so the standing almost face to face (Matthieu is lanky so, Arthur had to tilt his hed up a bit, and stand on his tippy toes so they where on eye level but.. he'll never admit that).

Arthur gave the boy a polite smile and said, " You are Alfred's brother, correct"

"No." Matthieu stated.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, but didn't prod any further.

"Whatever. That boy had a lot of nerve coming up to me... like that. He better watch his back or.. might find himself in a series of... compromising postions."

Francis was beginning to get up from the floor, and clearly caught the last part of the exchange between Arthur and Matthieu, because he wolf whistles very loud Arthur freezing in his tracks,flushes, and huffs back over to Francis and gives him a good kick in his man bits and shouts, " NOT LIKE THAT YOU TWAT".

" Not like what?"

Alfred stands a foot away from the other three boys with a very confused look on his face.

Francis is wailing on the floor.

Matthieu looks at him contemptuously before rolling his eyes and trekking in the opposite direction.

And Arthur for a split second, before he regains his composure, looks... flustered and embarrassed.

The pinkish blush that clings to his cheeks tugs on Alfred's heart and he almost smiles at the little british boy.

Almost.

Because, the British boy has schooled his expression back to that of unadulterated rage before shoving him out of his way and muttering about the,"ides of march coming your way".

As the school began to fill up with more and more students, Alfred leaned against that he was pushed into, rubbed his hand over his face, and put his music on full blast. As he waited for class to start.


	5. Chapter 5:Notebooks&KnuckleRings

(Hey Guys. I dunno. I feel like sharing what I am currently doing. It's a little past 2:30 AM where I am and... uh. This summer I have resolved that there is a long ass list of shit that I will do to better myself. On it is watching,Critically acclaimed or interesting looking or informative or essentially cliche'd films.. And I'm trying to get through a particularly... difficult... story line.. but I, currently, couldn't deal with feels so I figured I would update. Why am I telling you guys this? I dunno. I also want a blog. And blemish-less skin. But. that's not happening right now so I should shut up and start typing the story. Fun Fact: I don't know what happens next and the story. This is all sort of stream of consciousness.. I write what comes to mind and publish as it goes along. Also, let me end my pathetic litany of nothingness with saying sorry for not updating more.. school and a whole lotta other stufff... yeah. sahry! ok. I'm going to stop. now.)

Alfred sat in the back corner of his Period 5, AP Pyschology class ready to implode. Intially, Alfred was pleased as pudding when he found out he tested into the class. It was a difficult class to get into, and normally reserved for senior only buttttt.

He's just so damn smart.

... Or so he would like to think.

AP Psych is on the 5th floor and Alfred's first class after lunch. The room is almost filled with students when he arrives ( It took him a while to make it up five flights of stairs whilst nursing the food baby he had from the three portobello mushroom burgers and two orders of curly fries he ate). He saw Matthieu sitting in the corner seat in the front row, closest to the window that overlooked the bustling street there school was on.

Matthieu was being his atypical almost cliche' (AN:My computer won't let me do accent aigu...) too cool for school, aloof, "you wouldn't understand"-or- "You don't know me"-esque, hipster, teen ever. But, God, Alfred loves his baby step brother... No matter how bristly he gets. Currently, Matthieu was absorbed in his Psych textbook while Francis leans on the seat next him, and speaks in rapid fire French, with an eager expression plasted on his face and lots of hand movements. He gets Matthieu to look up at him from the corner of his eye, and a ghost of a smile appears on his face when Arthur zooms in to the room and plucks Francis from the conversation and plops him in a seat in the very back of the room.

"Francis. We have a hierarchy to maintain."

To that, Francis just grumbles and falls asleep on the desk.

Alfred and Matthieu are the only two AP Psych students that aren't seniors. Alfred's a junior and Matthieu is a sophomore, but they're both bright kids and had taken or tested out of the majority of classes at Thames and they needed a filler class. With the exception of Matthieu and himself, Al noticed the pattern of seating amongst the seniors. The "coolest"students, Arthur and Francis, sat in the very middle of the back row, their cronies sat surrounding them, the people that where rich or cool or pretty enough (Alfred isn't entirely sure what the criteria to being cool is) take up the majority of the middle rows, then there was ... everyone else? It wasn't like they where particularly nerdy... just not as ego up your ass bitchy like everyone else in the class. The teacher, whose name escapes Al, was in the middle of explaining what a freudian guilt complex was when she turned an alarming shade of green... which was quite astonishing given her dark cocoa complexion. She mumble a frazzled apology about undercooked mushrooms and sandwiches and bolted and of the room. The class, amazingly, sat there quietly (except for Francis who was snoring obnoxiously loud) until one of the office clerks buzzed in over the intercom and explained that Ms. McCoy ("Oh that's her name!") is being rushed to the hospital to have her stomach pumped. The class was instructed to read quietly for rest of class. Alfred cracked the new book open and began reading the introduction of the textbook when here heard a pair of steel clad Oxford's walk themselves over to his row and halt at his desk. Alfred learned that Arthur wore a pair of white and black patent leather Oxford's with steel tips from the many times he has come in contact with the shoes over the course of the day.

Seriously. It's getting out of control.

Alfred has been hit, kicked, tripped and stepped on by Arthur and those damn shoes and he is prepared to snap his little fucking neck if he pulls that shit again. He doesn't look up when Arthur plops down in the seat in front of him and begins drumming his fingers on Alfred's desk.

Alfred can ignore that, it's a lot less scarring than having a much smaller than you drop kick you down a flight of stairs.

Arthur's getting annoyed. The boy's ignoring him, and he doesn't take too well to being ignored.

So he starts tapping his feet on the floor and grabs the notebook on the desk, Alfred freezes.

"Look what I've found."

Francis wakes up from his stupor alert as ever and there is a fire blazing in Matthieu's eyes and Alfred still can't move.

And. And He can't stop what's about to happen.

Arthur sits on McCoy's desk and start's pilfering through the notebook with a devious grin on playing on his lips.

That was Alfred's doodle book.

Alfred has been sketching and doodling since he was a tot, and his sketches has always been very intimate. They were always effected by his mood, wild imagination and people that struck him.

... So he knows exactly what page Arthur's on when Arthur's eyes bulge out of his head and he almost drops the notebook.

It was something he sketched in his Physics class after Arthur tripped him for the umpteenth time that day, and well he felt like drawing instead of doing the equations the teacher gave them so he drew a sketch... of... Arthur.

It was sort like a series of sketches to illustrate all the different faces this strange stuck up british boy has shown Alfred. From the beautiful girl at the party, to the obnoxious little brat at school, to that adorable embarrassed face he made when Alfred caught him of guard. He doesn't normally share his pictures with just anyone, and certainly not Arthur.

Arthur studies the sketches and is amazed at the attention to detail. It's all so... flattering really. And he feels a blush settle in on his cheeks and he looks up at Alfred. His heart almost breaks at the sight of Alfred's terror filled eyes. Almost. Because then Arthur remembers who he is. And that he doesn't give a shit about some hick from the midwest or anyone else. So he schools his expression to fit the elitist, no-fucks given, aloof, wonderman image he made for himself.

"Arthur what is that?" a girl with long wavy brown hair asks.

Alfred squeezes his eyes shut and pales a bit.

Arthur tries to ignore that.

He pushes himself off the desk and begins to make his way down the row to where the pretty girl with brown hair is sitting when a hand grabs the back of his cardigan, spins him around, and before he could object he looks into a pair of igneous purplish blue eyes before he feels something hard and sharp connect with jaw.

Before Arthur conks out he sees the Canadian boy wipe his knuckle ring on his pant leg and mutter, "Asshole".

(okay so i know it's bad and I know that I write like I'm two and I know that I don't spell check. so. sorry and thank you for reading!)


End file.
